43

A t the sight of Elizabeth holding her sword to Reddington's throat, Stephen dashed down the narrow spiral stairs. His boots slipped on the worn gray stones in his race to reach her. Kuni and Graham had already burst outside. Stephen in red and the other Wynchesters in black-and-gold family regimentals reached the murder room at the same time. They streamed out the door into the front garden together.

"Victory to Castle Harbrook!" Jacob's amplified voice shouted through the speaking trumpet.

The crowd cheered.

Kuni and Graham were hugging Elizabeth, but they parted in order to allow Stephen access. He pulled her into his arms and swung her in victorious circles.

"You did it!" He covered her face in relieved kisses. "You squashed Reddington like the dung beetle he is."

Elizabeth laughed and kissed Stephen back, her eyes sparkling. "And I managed it at a measly forty percent!"

"Humph," he said. "Speak for your body. As for your sword-wielding, you never slipped below one hundred percent Elizabeth."

Elizabeth tipped the back of her head toward the vanquished dung beetle. "He never dipped below one hundred percent Reddington—which was his downfall."

Stephen glanced over Elizabeth's shoulder at the scene. "He's still surrounded by an adoring public, I see."

"He wishes he were." Jacob grinned. "They want a refund for their tickets to the upcoming Waterloo anniversary reenactment. They've decided Reddington is nothing at all like the Duke of Wellington, and they're demanding their shillings back."

Marjorie threw her arms around Elizabeth and Stephen both. "You two were phenomenal! Elizabeth won the war, but you helped us win the battles. Your machines are marvelous, and the trapdoor absolutely divine."

Stephen's entire body felt electric with excitement and energy and pride. It wasn't just that he couldn't recall the last time he'd won against a bully. He couldn't remember ever being part of a team like this at all.

"You are just as talented at throwing paint as you are at creating portraits with it," he demurred. " All of you played your roles perfectly."

Tommy stuck her thumbs in her waistband and grinned. "All we did was follow the plan."

"There were at least twenty potential plans," Stephen reminded her.

"And I think we implemented all of them," Graham agreed with a laugh.

They clapped shoulders and exchanged hugs for a few more minutes until Philippa gasped. "Oh no, the prisoners of war! They're still locked in the cells. Come on, Tommy, we must let the men return home."

The two rushed inside over the fallen door without a backward glance.

Graham pulled a small journal from his waistcoat. "That battering ram did real damage. I'm making a note to replace Miss Oak's castle door posthaste."

" I need to replace it," said Elizabeth. "The wood was missing quite a few chunks before Reddington and his men showed up."

Stephen gave her an indulgent smile. "That's my berserker."

At least, he wished she was his.

She nestled into him and sighed happily. "Nothing gives me more joy than to see Reddington and his army fall to a woman, a tinker, and a family of orphans. And my souvenir, of course." She held up her wounded hand. "A future battle scar!"

Jacob peered at her hand. "That's not going to scar."

" Damn it." Elizabeth scowled at her superficial war wound as though it had ruined her day.

Another carriage pulled up along the side of the road.

"Too late, you missed it!" yelled one of the departing picnickers. "The girl won!"

Elizabeth grinned.

"That's not more townsfolk arriving for the show," Graham told Stephen. "It's our hackney."

"We own a few carriages that double as hackneys for missions where we need to be discreet," Jacob explained.

A familiar, sheepish face emerged from the not-a-hackney's door.

"The Earl of Densmore!" Adrian exclaimed.

The awestruck earl took in the chaos of limping soldiers and chattering picnickers cluttering the length of the castle's lawn. After a long moment, he jogged up to Stephen. "I leave you alone for one month…"

"It's been over four months," Stephen corrected his cousin. "You said you'd be gone for two days."

The earl winced. "I lost track of time?"

"You lost your castle, too," said Elizabeth.

"Technically, it never was your castle," Kuni added. "We defended it all the same."

Densmore pointed at his feet in horror. "Is that blood splattering my boots?"

"It's red paint," answered Marjorie. "Mostly."

"Excuse me for a moment," said Graham. "I must send our driver on one more mission."

"Paint?" Densmore repeated. "Why on earth is—"

A swarm of soldiers streamed out from the gaping castle entrance, several of them sporting impressive knots on their foreheads.

"You!" Reddington marched up to the cluster of Wynchesters, the frayed stumps of his severed coattails flapping with each stride. He jabbed his finger into the earl's lapel. "This is all your fault, Densmore."

"I have no idea what's happening," the earl protested.

"You apparently didn't know what was happening the last time I saw you, either. You promised me a castle these infidels claim you do not own."

Densmore had the grace to flinch with embarrassment at this accusation. "At the time of that particular gameplay, ownership was somewhat unclear—"

"Do you want to know what's clear?" Face flushed, Reddington smashed his worthless IOU into the earl's chest. "Your word is worth as much as this paper. None at all."

Without waiting for a response, Reddington spun around in a huff, giving the earl his back. He stomped off to lead his men through the forest and away from Castle Harbrook.

Stephen turned to his long-lost cousin. "You are a rogue, you know."

"I know." Densmore hung his head. "Thank you for coming to my rescue yet again. I suppose you've left things better than how you found them? If a bit more cluttered?"

"If you're referring to my machines, yes, I might have installed one or two. And if you're referring to your finances… also yes. Your coffers are heavier than ever, and you've given all your employees a raise in salary."

Densmore made a sheepish expression. "How would you like to be earl?"

"Not on your life." Stephen leapt away from his cousin. "Take that back."

"What I mean is… I could really use your help. Would you be my man of business? You can name your price. You'd be the one in charge of your salary anyway."

"You can't afford me," said Stephen. "I have tinkerings to tinkle."

"And you'd earn fifty percent of all capital gains due to your investment advice, starting from the moment you stepped onto this property four months ago."

"I'll accept a fair commission, though I shan't take a position on your staff."

Densmore nodded dejectedly. "Who in their right mind would?"

Stephen let out a sigh. "But I will help you find and train appropriate staff so that your other holdings are never in jeopardy. At least, unless you gamble them away."

"I'm through wagering," Densmore promised. "And drinking. New leaf, I promise."

Stephen slanted him a skeptical look.

"I mean it," his cousin insisted. "I'll prove it." He pulled a folded piece of parchment from his inner breast pocket and slapped it into Stephen's palm. "Here. Give this to its rightful owner."

Stephen unfolded the paper and grinned. "The deed to the castle?"

"Mother always said this pile was to become her and Aunt Oak's orphanage. I know my sudden flight was corkbrained, but I ran away to keep Reddington from getting his hands on the deed before we could find Mother's will."

"You're not all bad," Stephen said grudgingly, and slung his arm around his cousin. "Come, allow me to introduce you to the Wynchesters."

One by one, he explained who each was, and how he or she had contributed to the vanquishing of a villain.

Densmore bowed to each in turn. "It sounds like this is very much my honor."

Stephen squeezed Elizabeth's uninjured hand. Not to comfort her this time, but to comfort himself. While the rest of the Wynchesters were relating excited stories about how this person or that person had been brave and brilliant and had triumphed, Stephen was facing what all this exuberance really meant:

The mission was over. His cousin no longer needed him. The Wynchesters no longer needed him. Elizabeth no longer needed him. He could pick up and go home now, just like the picnickers and the soldiers.

It had been fun while it lasted, but he and his machines were now superfluous. His part was through. Thank you and goodbye.

He wasn't ready. He might never be ready. But the time had come.

"There's our carriage," said Graham as the not-a-hackney returned into view.

"That was a fast errand," said Densmore. "Did you send it just to drive down the street and back?"

"Close. Come on." Graham waved them over to greet the carriage.

The driver leapt out, but Graham was already at the door. With a grin, he handed down a wonderstruck Miss Oak.

"What on earth happened here?" she asked as she glanced around the stained and trampled lawn.

"Exactly what I said," muttered Densmore.

She rapped him on the shoulder with her fan. "Nephew! No doubt you were at the root of all this trouble."

"One of the roots," said Jacob. "Reddington was the main thorn."

"But I ripped him from the ground and threw him away," said Elizabeth. "And now he's honor bound, before dozens of impartial witnesses and one hundred of his own men, to leave Castle Harbrook in peace forevermore."

Miss Oak brightened in relief and joy. "Truly?"

Elizabeth grinned at her. "The castle is yours."

Stephen handed her the deed.

Miss Oak hugged them all.

"We'll clean up the lawn after the last stragglers have left," Graham added. "Come with us to the parlor, in the meantime. We've got something else you've been looking for."

"I'll buy you a new front door," added Elizabeth. "For now, pretend it's a whimsical wooden carpet decorating the open entrance."

Miss Oak's eyes widened.

"I'll ring for tea," said Stephen. "I think we could all use a cup."

When they reached the parlor, Marjorie and Philippa handed out the cups and saucers from atop the tea cabinet.

"This is the deed," said Miss Oak, "but without my sister's will—"

Elizabeth hurried over to the emptied cabinet and placed her finger above the thorn-shaped secret button. "Ready?"

Miss Oak leaned forward. "Is that a fresh wound on your hand?"

"Pah," said Elizabeth. "That's nothing important. It won't even scar. Watch this!"

She pressed the button, which caused the spring-loaded panel to fly open.

Miss Oak gasped. "A secret compartment!"

Elizabeth pulled out the countess's will, and handed it to Miss Oak. "Yours, at last. I don't even think I got blood on the parchment."

Miss Oak unfolded the document. "My sister's handwriting! You found the will, just as you said you would." She pressed the papers to her bosom. "How can I ever thank you all?"

"It's not settled yet," said Elizabeth. "You inherited the castle, but no funds with which to support it. I've not yet discussed details with my siblings, but I think we—"

"But I do have funds," said Miss Oak. "Mr. Lenox set up a trust for me. The interest alone will more than cover the expenses of staff and meals and ongoing castle maintenance."

"Of course he did." Elizabeth grinned at Stephen. "You wily fox."

He blinked innocently.

Miss Oak tucked the will and the deed into her reticule. "Need I still worry about Richard Reddington?"

"Not for a single second," Graham assured her. "Your papers are in order, and the castle is legally yours. If you're amenable, Marjorie will create a spare copy for you and your original solicitor, while the original documents will be held for safekeeping by a trusted lawyer who frequently handles Wynchester affairs."

"Thank you," said Miss Oak. "That sounds wonderful."

"Reddington is so used to money and status making his every wish come true," said Elizabeth. "I'm glad this time, it's Miss Oak and her sister's wishes coming true."

Miss Oak smiled. "Not just me and my sister. This will mean the world to several new employees and one hundred worthy children, who now will have a stable new home. Thank you. You'll never know how much this means to me. To all of us."

"We have some idea," Tommy murmured. "Call on us whenever you please."

Maids arrived with the kettle and cakes, and soon the chatter turned to plans for the future rather than the trials of the past.

Stephen was glad Miss Oak knew exactly how she intended to utilize the trust he'd set up for her and her school. Even if that meant Densmore's aunt no longer needed Stephen, either. Like the Wynchesters, she now had all the tools she needed to live the life she wanted. A life that had nothing to do with an eccentric tinker.

When the tea was over, Stephen glanced out the window to discover even the castle itself no longer needed him. He'd planned to help clean up the detritus on the lawn, but the servants had already completed the task.

Reddington was long gone, as were his men and the ticket holders, so there was no one to chase away. Stephen could order a new door, but Elizabeth was handling that. All that remained for him to do was to gather his things and vacate the premises so that Miss Oak could get started building her new school.

"Well," said Graham. "Time to pack our valises."

"I never unpacked," said Kuni.

"I can help you dismantle your souvenir machines," Stephen offered.

"Adrian and I remember how to do it," Marjorie said. "Besides, we need the practice more than you do."

She and the other siblings looked at Elizabeth, who cleared her throat and glanced out the window.

"Ugh," she said loudly. "It will be a long drive back to London."

Stephen pressed his lips together at the unspoken rejection. Ugh, a long drive . Not: Ugh, how it pains me to leave you, Stephen .

"The torture will soon end," Jacob said dryly. "All the swords you missed so much are at home in your armory waiting for you."

Elizabeth brightened. "And I may have expropriated a new one to add to my collection."

"The sword you defeated Reddington with?" Marjorie asked.

Elizabeth smiled. "The sword we all defeated Reddington with."

Her siblings laughed and cheered.

Stephen wished he felt like laughing and cheering.

All this talk was an extended goodbye. A permanent goodbye. Not only wasn't Elizabeth tearfully begging for their time not to come to an end, but she also hadn't even bothered to inquire about Stephen's direction so that they could exchange the occasional letter.

When the war ends, the soldiers go home.

And the tinker returns to solitude.

"Well," said Tommy. "Shall we load up our carriages and hand the castle over to our client?"

Now? Already? They wouldn't even pause for luncheon?

Stephen shot an anguished look over at Elizabeth. Her eyes were already on him. When their gazes met, she dropped hers at once… but not before he glimpsed a matching flash of torment. Or maybe her pain had nothing to do with him at all. Maybe it was the battle, catching up to her. Maybe what she really wanted was to be done with Dorset—and Stephen.

In any case, he couldn't allow her to walk out of his life without at least trying to be part of hers.

He strode over to her. "Might we speak privately for a moment?"

She nodded and followed him into the castle's corridor.

This was not the romantic setting of Stephen's dreams. He wished he'd had time to construct an elaborate set, using every trick at his disposal to tip the odds in his favor. Instead, he was going to have to plead his case with nothing more than himself… and a flood of anxiety more suffocating than any he'd ever experienced before.

She raised her eyebrows at him.

He tried to remember how to speak. His usually deep voice came out in a croak. "Stay with me," he blurted.

She took a step back. "None of us can stay. The castle belongs to Miss Oak now, remember? Footmen are readying my siblings' carriages for the long drive home."

"I know. My residence is in London, too. You could—" Stephen's words bubbled in his stomach. He was botching this completely. Shite. He had to start anew. "Marry me. Please."

She blinked. "What?"

He reached for her hands. "I have never known happiness like these weeks spent with you. Please allow me to devote the rest of our lives to making you just as happy. This hasn't been a traditional courtship—"

"Duels, dungeons, and catacombs are the best kind of courtship," she assured him.

Some of his anxiety eased, and he lifted her hands to his mouth to kiss them. "You haven't seen my home yet, but I hope you'll love it. If there are any modifications you'd like me to make before you move in, just say the word and I'll—"

Her smile vanished, replaced by a look of horror. "You want me to abandon my family?"

Stephen's anxiety ratcheted up higher than before, making his muscles twitch with panic.

"You won't be abandoning them," he stammered. "I live five miles away, not on the other side of the world."

"I won't be abandoning them," she repeated unshakably. "Not now, and not ever. It felt awful when Chloe left, and she's in London, too."

What could be more definitive than not now, and not ever ?

His chest hollowed. "If you don't see any hope of a future between us—"

"Of course I do." She pulled his hands to her bosom and gave a little bounce. "You must come live with us."

"Live in that house with… your entire family?"

She nodded happily.

His skin turned clammy. Stephen tried his best to keep his voice calm and steady. "That's very kind of you to offer, but there's not enough room for me and my machines. Which are as much a part of me as… as your swords are a part of you."

"It's a very large residence," she assured him. "Each sibling has their own spare room to do with as they will."

"One room. To do with what they will." His stomach roiled. "My love, I have an entire house to do with as we wish. You can have a whole floor for your armory if it pleases you. We can visit your siblings as often as you'd like. Doesn't it make more sense to live where we both can be comfortable?"

She dropped his hands. "I'm comfortable in the room I've lived in for over twenty years."

"Are you?" he asked softly. "Or is it what you've grown used to?"

"What about you?" she snapped. "If you stay with us, we're only five miles away from your precious machines. You can visit them whenever you want."

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I see we're at a stalemate. If you're not ready to leave your family, I won't pressure you to do so."

Her forehead lined. "That's it, then? Battle over? We go our separate ways?"

"I hope not. I want to spend every minute of the rest of my life with you. If you ask it of me, I'd build you the tallest palace in the land, with a cabled conveyance that sails you from our tallest turret straight into your family's sitting room. I'm open to any compromise at all that will give us a life together in which we both have the space we need to be our true selves."

She crossed her arms and squinted at him.

He pressed on. "But if that's not what you want, I won't force you. If you don't feel that being with me is a good choice, then it's not the choice you should make." Even if the loss of her killed him. He tucked a stray hair behind her ear. "How about you come and visit me when and if you see a mutual path forward, and we'll resume our discussion then?"

She lifted her chin. "Fine."

There. She'd agreed to something, at least. A pact Stephen already regretted, because he would miss her desperately from the moment she climbed into her carriage. And now he'd locked himself in a position where he couldn't chase after her without undermining her free will.

No calls. No letters. No courtship.

Just Stephen, five miles away, hoping for a knock on his front door. Or a battle-axe.

"I should return to the parlor," she said. "My siblings need me."

He held up his palms in acquiescence.

When they reentered, Marjorie and Adrian were just pushing to their feet.

"There you are," said Marjorie. "There's still plenty of light for the journey. Adrian and I can break down the machines and arrange for hired carriages to transport them later."

"I'll collect my animals now," said Jacob.

The rest chimed in with how they would help. They had clearly done this before. At this rate, they would be out the door in less than an hour.

"I've a reading circle tomorrow," said Philippa. "Do you think we'll be back in time?"

"If we drive straight through." Graham looked at Elizabeth. "Are you up for a long ride?"

She hesitated.

Stephen's heart stuttered. Was she worried about the seats and the bumpiness of the road, or was she realizing that she, too, could not bear to be separated from Ste—

"Of course we can drive straight through," Elizabeth said loudly. "I can do anything."

His chest seized. Of course she could do anything. He had no choice but to let her go.

In no time at all, the Wynchesters were packed and ready. The hired carriages to cart all of Stephen's other creations and supplies wouldn't arrive until morning. Which left him nothing to do but stand there on the side of the road to wave goodbye.

And hope his broken heart didn't show on his face.

Elizabeth was the last to climb into a carriage, pausing just outside the open door.

Stephen gave up on being stoic. He sprinted to the carriage before it could swallow her whole. Instead, he wrapped his arms around her and pressed his frantic lips to hers, telling her without words that she was the most exquisite berserker he'd ever known. His favorite person, whom he would miss more than he'd missed anything else in his life.

She squeezed him back. And kissed him.

And then she let him go.